Let some mother tell the meaning
Of the flags unfurled to-day,
As she clasps a treasured picture
Of her boy who marched away,
In the glory of his valor,
Unto crimsoned battle plain,
Or to call of ruthless waters,
Never to return again.
Let some angel weld the fragments
Of our banners—stained and torn—
Unto vestments fair of heaven,
Where the souls of braves are borne;
Where no strain of joy is rifted,
And the lily, flower of Peace,
Sheds its sweet enduring fragrance
'Mid immortal ecstacies.
ANNIE M. TOOHEY.
Troy Times. May 29, 1919: 4 col 3.